Quinn was alone when she emerged from the hangar. Her standard uniform was gone, replaced by the yellow quarantine outfit that the more fortunate ones received. Officially, that placed her in the ever-changing limbo between infected and cleared. The practice was almost exclusively reserved for the Scuu front, where psychological changes within people took months, sometimes years, of careful observation to be found out. “Hacked” humans were difficult to spot, as some used to say.

I understood the need for the practice, but I also empathized with the people involved. As a ship, I had gone through extensive memory checks for signs of rogueness. The experience was rarely painful, but never fully welcomed.

“Captain.” I waved across the corridor. Med Core had let Quinn keep her rank insignia, indicating that, for all intents and purposes, she was a captain even if not on active duty.

Acknowledging me, she increased her pace of walking, stopping upon reaching me.

“Hello, Grandma,” she said. There was no smile, but a tone analysis suggested she was calm and relaxed. “Glad to see you pulled it off. In your typical fashion.”

That wasn’t fair. The chances of my actions triggering the gravitational anomalies in the system were exceedingly low. Still, I could not say I had gone by the book.

“No one has been hurt, ma’am.” I sent a dozen queries to confirm the state of my former crew. With two exceptions, all remained in full quarantine, but seemed well. According to Med Core’s notes, there was every chance they’d be returned to active duty after two months of observation at most.

Quinn shook her head with a smile.

“You’ll never change. I guess I have you to thank for the sudden vacation,” she added. “Three months’ leave, effective immediately. A week of which I have to spend here.”

That was as much a favor to her as it was to me. Of course, I had no intention of telling her that.

“That might be a good thing.”

“Who knows?” Quinn looked around. “Any idea where my escort is?”

“I think I might have abused my authority a bit, ma’am.” I admitted. “I’ll be taking you to your quarters.”

“You don’t say?” She let out a chuckle. “In that case, lead the way.”

Taking her to her quarters was a lot different than I had imagined. In most of my simulations, she had been angry, or grateful to a lesser extent. Now that the real thing was taking place, she remained unusually calm and quiet, almost like I would have been.

The first three minutes, I respected the mutual silence. With what she had gone through, that was ample of time for her to say something, if she wanted to. The grace period over, I decided it was my turn.

“How are you planning to use it?” I looked at her.

“My vacation? I’m not sure. It’s been a while since I’ve had one.”

That sounded familiar.

“My missions don’t usually involve a lot. There’s more travelling than danger.”

Again, that wasn’t entirely true. Transporting third-contact domes wasn’t something I’d regard as remotely safe even when there was no fighting involved. Even now, all the knowledge we’d accumulated regarding them didn’t even scratch the surface. The Cassandrian mimic-tech, the Scuu Network, all of them stretched humanity’s current understanding, and they were nothing compared to third-contact technology.

Knowing that soon I’d be in charge of a dome of my own had prompted me to analyze decades of military classified battles. Domes were sought after by all, regardless of cost. According to the arbiter’s confidential files, there had also been a number of deaths related to the early days of research and transport of the artifact. One thousand, one-hundred and seventy-two people had died despite the security measures put in place. Three times the number had ended up in a near vegetative state.

“What about your family?” I asked.

“Hardly.” She gave me a quick glance. “My husband and I are separated, and my kid hasn’t spoken to me in five years.”

“Your other family.”

Quinn missed a step. From her point of view, it must have seemed that I was comparing her to her child. That hadn’t been my intention.

“You’re asking me to go back home?”

“Sev will be glad to see you. He might even admit it.”

“Yes, but he probably won’t. I’ve been keeping tabs on him as much as I could. There were even times I considered calling, but each time I tried, I didn’t know what to say. You’ve been taking good care of him.”

“Just as I promised.”

“Yes, just as you promised. The first thing I did when I got in the Fleet was to check my great-grandmother’s file. Seeing what you had done, I expected it to be something grand, requiring more security that I could dream of. Instead, it turned out to be…”

“Quite common?” I asked.

“A low-grade patrol captain running into a Cassandrian mine cluster. Definitely not the exciting career I expected.”

“I told you there’s nothing glorious about war. It’s an unfortunate necessity if humanity is to survive.”

“I remember what you told me. At the time, I didn’t believe you.”

The conversation ended again. This time, though, there was nothing I could say to continue. There was a thirty-one percent chance I had changed her mind regarding going back home for a visit. Not the best start, but hopefully enough to crack the door open for later attempts.

I led Quinn to her quarters, describing things on the way. Since she wasn’t provided a datapad, I lent her my own. In the immediate term, that would be enough for her to get an idea of the basic layout of the station, at least until she was given one of her own. We said a few brief goodbyes, after which I went back to my quarters.

Once again, time crawled by, seemingly slowed down by Quinn’s presence. I’d dedicated all my processing power to simulations and obtaining information, though ten percent was free in case Quinn needed me. Augustus liked to grumble that people with children had no place in the Fleet. I didn’t entirely agree, but understood his reasoning. After having members of my family join the Fleet, I had also learned to appreciate Sev’s point of view as well.

The next few days continued as normal, at least from the point of view of the station’s administration. At six o’clock following Quinn’s arrival, I had my datapad returned with a strict warning not to provide personal belongings to quarantined personnel without prior permission. I was also forbidden from having any contact with her during my stay. Whoever had issued the order probably wanted to teach me a lesson, but I was fully aware that the ban wouldn’t hold. The powers that be were determined to give me a brief period of calm before the final storm I was about to run off to, so by the third day, Quinn’s quarantine had been removed. She wasn’t reinstated to active duty, but none of the quarantine restrictions remained in effect. Everything was supposed to bring us closer. Sadly, it only partially succeeded. The main drawback of big-picture strategies was that, while it usually managed to achieve the desired effect on a large scale, it didn’t bother with individual people. In this case, individual people were the only thing that mattered.

I stood in front of the quarantine section, patiently waiting for Quinn to emerge. When she did, she was in a brand-new captain’s uniform.

“Captain.” I stood to attention.

“I guess I have you to thank for that.” She approached with a neutral expression. “You don’t have to salute. I'm on official leave.”

“Not what you wanted?”

“Not this way. Still, what’s done is done. I always knew you’d be trouble. At least no one died on this one.”

“Then you’ll be glad to know I won’t endanger your crew any longer.”

The sudden frown indicated that she hadn’t been informed.

“I’ll be leaving your crew.”

“Oh.” Tone analysis identified potential levels of concern. “Transferred?”

“Something like that. My next mission is in the works. It won’t require your involvement.”

There was a long pause. In her world, seconds passed. In mine—infinity longer.

“Is that why you want me to go to Resha?”

“Something like that,” I replied.

We both knew what that meant, just that we couldn’t discuss it openly. In the Fleet, any mission that was on the front had the potential of being one’s last. Beyond a certain access level, there were missions which all but guaranteed a fatal outcome. Old ships went on such missions—ships that had remained in existence longer than they were supposed to be. Unlike them, I had things that made me want to stay alive—people I liked, a growing family I was a part of. However, it was also because of them that I knew that I should go forward. Also, as Augustus liked to say in his final months of service, “Given enough time, even a rookie becomes old…”

* * *

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Atametsu System, Cassandrian Front, 613.01 A.E. (Age of Expansion)

Why did they put us with the relics? Light Vector transmitted in the closed channel. He was an Ascendant, the same as me, though not one I knew personally. As he liked to constantly remind us, he was part of the final batch of Ascendants before the ship class was discontinued. In his view, that made him superior to everyone else.

Focus on the mission, not the ships, Glow Enforcer said. It’s one skirmish.

Beats doing logistics, I guess.

Three more battleships jumped into the system. All of them were Cascades, which made them at least fifty years old. Back when they were constructed, the Fleet was under the belief that extensive firepower was the answer to everything, so they were constructed to hold as many missiles as possible. Over forty percent of their husks were dedicated to weapon systems and ammunition. Looking at the historical records, that had proven to be a rather costly mistake. While they were vastly superior in ship-to-ship combat, the lack of ground troops made it impossible for them to reclaim planets, and if there was one thing the Cassandrians excelled at, it was establishing a ground presence. Not every system was suitable for them, but those that were became anchor planets, which quickly tore chunks from human territory, increasing the front in the Cassies’ favor.

How many more of them are there? Light Vector asked. That’s sixty-three already.

Maybe we’ll be dealing with something a lot bigger than we thought, Second Corona said.

For the next ninety-seven minutes, Cascade and Thunder class ships kept on gathering. Then, finally, we received our official orders.

The entire flotilla was a hundred and three strong. We were to go to a quiet section of the front to check the strength of the enemy's presence and try to breach. The target had a low strategic value, but HQ seemed to be of the belief that it might cause enough ripples to weaken the front elsewhere.

“Seven minutes till jump,” I announced on my bridge, while displaying messages on the walls of all halls and quarters.

The majority of people didn’t seem to care. Augustus, in particular, remained uncharacteristically quiet. Normally, he’d be grumbling for hours in between his disgusting smoking habit and the occasional flask of alcohol.

“Anything I should know, Captain?” I asked.

“Nothing you have to,” he grumbled back. “Focus on the mission and don’t get us killed.”

“As always, sir.”

All ships, this is Firesparker, a Cascade battleship transmitted in all channels. He had been modified to contain a full eleven percent more missiles. I’ll be assuming command of the mission. After reaching our destination, we’ll split into three squadrons. Details are being transmitted along with your squadron commanders. I’ll take charge of squadron one.

A new info burst conveyed the necessary data, along with system flight plans and simulations. If nothing else, the ship was thorough.

Looking over the numbers, I couldn’t find any major errors, although I didn’t fully agree with certain decisions. Then again, it wasn’t my place to disagree.

Each squadron had four Ascendants assigned to it. To some surprise, I was to be part of the flotilla commander, along with Light Vector and two other ships of my class.

Fleet Intelligence speculates that three planets in the system have a Cassandrian presence. We’ll hit all three at the same time. Our primary objective is to take control of the planetary orbits and protect the kids while they do a sweep of the ground.

In this case, the “kids” referred to the Ascendants.

Four ships per planet? Glow Enforcer asked. Half a million grunts will do crap.

Do what you can, Firesparker replied. We’re assured that enemy presence will be minimal.

Looks like another clearing mission, Light Vector grumbled.

We’ll do the heavy lifting and provide orbital assistance. You kids, just mop up what’s left and make it all clean and shiny.

Such an attitude was the reason five-decade ships were so disliked. I’d been on missions with several so far, and more often than not, there’d be one who thought they knew it all. Old enough to be redundant, though not old enough to be Swords, they’d always have the last word, viewing everything we said as infantile.

What if we take on one planet at a time, then move, then transport the troops when done? I asked.

HQ’s orders are for simultaneous strikes, the older ship replied. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and find that half the planets are abandoned?

I didn’t like the answer, but there was no point arguing. The antique had been granted operational control, and even if he hadn’t, it was HQ setting the mission parameters. All the rest of us could do was follow them.

Ships moved about, grouping in three separate clusters. While there was nothing demanding it, all ship classes gathered together within the squadrons.

Damned relics, Light Vector went at it again. Always think they know best.

The jumps started not long after. We followed a five-jump route, going through systems deemed cleared by Fleet Intelligence. Against all odds, they were almost correct. Other than a cluster of five Cassandrian ships, we encountered no other hostiles.

“Elcy,” Augustus said from the captain’s chair. “Don’t go overboard with this one. If things are hopeless, grab what grunts you can and get out of here.”

“Things are always hopeless, sir,” I quoted the popular saying. “This is the front.”

“Don’t get smart with me. You’re more important than a damned indulgence mission.”

Initially, I thought it was Augustus being himself. Upon arriving at our destination, my perspective shifted radically.

The methods and measurements used by Fleet Intelligence were a highly guarded secret. Whatever they were, they had to be at least off. Thousands of Cassandrian ships filled the system, gathered in the vicinity of three planets. Being generous, that was the only thing that the FI had gotten right.

I scanned the system along with every other ship in our flotilla, creating a combined map of the area.

The Cassie ships were outdated, with weak and inferior armor and weapons. Even so, they outnumbered us approximately fifty to one. Of the five planets in the system, one had a confirmed enemy presence, while two satellites of a gas giant were marked as potentially dangerous.

Mission parameter update, Firesparker announced. Squadron one will be targeting the second planet. Squadrons two and three, check out the satellites of the fifth and mop up everything else on the way. First one to finish joins the rest. Most importantly, keep the kids safe!

“You don’t need to go that far. I sent him a direct transmission. We’ve twice the processing power and enough years on the front to know what we’re doing. Stop looking down on us.

I’m not looking down on you, Light Seeker, the ship replied. You’re not meant to die here.

No one is meant to die here.

That’s where you’re wrong. This is our final mission. This small group of ships is all that’s left of two classes. We aren’t meant to return. You are. We’re just here to make sure that everything we discover makes its way back to HQ.

* * *

That had been the first indulgence mission of that scale I’d been part of. Later I’d learned the practice was quite common. In most cases, the ships were sent alone as part of a suicide or divergent mission. Every now and again, they’d have an escort—a group to witness their mission or their destruction. Humans would never be able to understand that, but for some ships, there came a point when even the most in-depth refitting could be of no use. The only options remaining were transferring to civilian life, retiring, or taking one final mission. When it came to battleships, the latter was almost exclusively preferred.

Two days later, Quinn agreed to have her leave back home with me. Given how rarely we’d spoken, I found it unexpected. My surprise wasn’t close to what Quinn experienced once we landed.

“This is what the port has become?” she asked. “I remember it differently.”

“The colony has grown a lot. There are more cities than you remember. At one point they wanted to turn the market into a city.”

“Why didn’t they?”

“Expenses, I guess. Despite everyone’s desire for modernization, this remains a backwater planet and will for several decades. That’s why I like it so much.”

“I can see that. What about the house? Any changes there?”

“Not much. Other than a few things here and there, it should be as you remember it.” I reviewed my memories. “I could tell you all the changes, if you like.”

“No need. Let me enjoy the surprise. Just one thing. I’d like to meet Dad alone. Can you give me that?”

“If that’s what you want. Don’t get him agitated. He’s not as young as he used to be.”

“I know.”

There was the option of taking a vehicle to Sev’s house. I offered that Quinn do that. On my end, I was determined to make my way on foot. She probably felt somewhat nostalgic, for she decided to join me.

The first thing I did when off the spaceport was to take off my shoes and socks. The weather was nice, and the soil—soft, but firm just after a light drizzle. It had been a while since I’d felt a similar sensation, so I took the opportunity to enjoy every moment.

“I remember I used to chase you around here,” Quinn looked around in an attempt to recognize some of the trees. “You’d let me catch you every third time.”

“It wasn’t every third time,” I corrected. “You were so certain of the idea that I never contradicted you.”

“You didn’t let me catch you?”

“Of course I did. I just based it on your mood. When you were sad or going through something, I’d try to cheer you up a bit. It worked most of the time.”

“That’s because I was never mad at you. Growing up, I used to think you were the only one that listened.”

“I did listen.”

“So did my parents in their own way. Sadly, it took becoming a parent myself to realize that. Things are never what one assumes they are.”

“If you’d known what you know now, would you have joined the Fleet?”

Quinn cracked a smile.

“You never pull any punches, do you?” She gave herself a few seconds of silence. “No, probably not. A lot of what I believed had nothing to do with reality. I don’t regret my decision, though. Doing what I do has a far deeper purpose now. Thanks to what I do, there’s a chance all of humanity finds peace. Not only the inner systems, but the whole domain.”

Either that or witness a third front, I thought.

“At the end of the day, all you can do is carry part of your dreams with you.”

“Like your sandals?” She glanced at where they were hanging from my shoulder.

“My sandals, my memories, the people I keep in touch with.”

“What if the memories aren’t good?”

“Most of them aren’t, but given enough time, there are enough that are.”

My answer caused her to shake her head. An analysis of her mannerisms suggested she didn’t agree with me. It wouldn’t be the first time. It was normal, though. I hadn’t agreed with any of my captains. There was no reason they would agree with me.

Our conversation continued on and off for quite a while until we reached the house.

Seeing Quinn go to the door and walk in reminded me of all the times Sev returned after a long absence. Sometimes he came back happy, sometimes not so much, but I was always happy to see him.

“You have a visitor.” I heard Alexander’s distinct voice. I had already told Quinn about the android, so she knew what to expect.

“Is it Elcy?” Sev shouted from inside. “That girl always comes at the worst possible time!”

“Not exactly. You have another visitor.”

There was a long moment of silence, almost as long for them as it was for me.

“Hello, Dad,” Quinn said. “It’s nice seeing you. Can I come in?”

A few seconds later, the door closed behind her.